Sterile
by AleMent
Summary: If you were told you were perfect your whole life, you might think it's true. Sometimes you just wish it was true. You'll work so hard, just for some sense of it. Even if it's fake. If you squint, Mojo x Blossom.


All Blossom wanted was for everything to be perfect. Nothing in her room crooked, every fine piece of art was straight, the curtains matched and she only had the classics on her bookshelf. For perfection to come, things must first be clean and organized. That was her motto. So there was not a spec , spot or stain anywhere. Her clothes were cleaned every other day, she dusted her room daily and assigned chores to her sisters. She bought the food, making sure it was the freshest they had, using her superhero status to her own advantages.

Of course, her cleanliness did lead to success. Her organizational skills were enhanced so she became a top-ranked fighter and an even better leader. The one bad thing about rising to perfection is that you expect people to rise with you. So when Buttercup made a mess while fighting a monster or when Bubbles collapsed from sheer exhaustion from training, Blossom got mad. How was she supposed to achieve happiness if her sisters wouldn't cooperate? 'You cannot make others happy until you are happy.' That's the rule right?

Blossom was a machine; her sisters were kinks that either needed to be fixed or removed.

Mojo might seem organized to the normal eye. If you just walked into his lair one day, you would think he was all set. Lasers in position, defense systems intact and vicious equipment everywhere. It would like quite evil. Of course, you'd never be able to tell anyone about this; since his defense systems would vaporize you. In reality, Mojo kept his front room clean for appearance. If you looked closely, you would see the dust, the mess and the clutter. Crumpled up plans tend to pile up after awhile. But in the end, if you really knew Mojo, he was a complete mess.

Blossom knew Mojo. Fighting crime for thirteen years, ever since she was five, led her to know some things about her arch-nemesis. She knew that every time she busted in through the ceiling, she couldn't stop herself from scanning the room and lifting her upper lip in disgust. She couldn't stop herself from having the pure urge to just grab a rag and make the place _shine._ She couldn't stop herself from fantasizing about grabbing the chimp and making him look proper. Just to make him clean enough to look respectable. Someone she would be proud in defeating.

It looked a little unhealthy to her sisters. She would be spread out on her bed, grinding her death and fighting. She knew that she could be the perfect little girl she was always meant to be; if she could only fix all the kinks. Just to get Buttercup to take pride in her workplace; like she did. To just make Bubbles work until she had enough endurance to go on for days; like she could. Just to get Mojo to clean himself and his environment; like she always will. She pushed her hands through damp hair, sweating slightly and breathing heavy. It could all be fixed. So simply, with grace, and she could be perfect. Some part of her clung on to the other part just insisting that she couldn't do this to people. Just force her way on them. But she was Blossom Utonium, if she said it, it must be just , morale and the _perfect_ way. Right?

The softest of knocks made her shoot up and smooth her hair down. Blossom practiced a smile and invited the person in. Bubbles softly trotted over and sat down. Blossom felt a sharp pin of jealousy, did she look that pretty walking or sitting, did it look so effortless? Bubbles told her how worried she was getting and started to go into detail about Blossom's 'odd' behavior. Blossom didn't hear a word of it. All she could do was stare. Her sister's eyes looked deep and empty. Her face was three shades too pale and was hallowed out around her eyes and cheeks, even her sunlight hair looked weak; despite the happy pigtails they were arranged in. How had she missed this? When had her sister end up the stressed out person. Every time Bubble's mouth closed, her jaw locked up and her teeth clenched.

When you take a look at your kinks, all you think about is what you should have done to make then useful.

Blossom felt the room spin the moment Bubbles left. Everything closed in on her, constricting her airway, stopping her lungs. She pulled on her hair and tossed around. How could she ever consider herself perfect, if that's what she has done. This wasn't a competition, her sisters weren't racing her for the title; how could she step on her sisters just for her own silly need. This wasn't the way she should act. Even if one day she could be the boss, screwing up her sisters' lives wouldn't make her owner one day. Her machine would run better if the kinks felt better. She must ease up on them, even if it slowed her down.

Or.

Or she could take the other option. She could leave her kinks. Leave them to fix themselves. With none of her influence, they would get stronger. But it's not as simple as leaving Buttercup and Bubbles in the middle of the desert, blindfolded. She wasn't trying to kill them. Maybe only she had to leave. She wasn't perfect yet, so obviously everyone was sick of her, she reasoned with herself. But where could she go, what place had no idea of her compulsion to be excellent in everyway.

Where would you go?

Blossom had no reasonable idea for once (she was highly disappointed in herself), she needed to clear her head. Her room was very clean, very perfect, and even she could see nothing wrong. It was perfect. Oddly enough, she felt blank. Her room was perfect, there was nothing left for her to do. It was a little intimidating. Perfection surrounded her yet she did not feel perfect. She knew the house looked the same and she needs to avoid her sisters. Somewhere that she was needed. Someone needed her to be perfect.

She jumped off her bed, raced around grabbing cleaning supplies, and shot through the window. She panted and sweat as she flew, finally excited. Powers were amazing, they got her to where she needed to be fast. She broke in through a window on the large dome and dashed down to the main floor. She fell on her knees when she got there and immediately started washing. She dunked the rag into soapy water and started to clean the floor.

As you can imagine, Mojo was freaked out of his mind. When Powerpuff girls come crashing in to clean your floors, it's probably a dream. He shouted at Blossom sharply, questioning her with the basics. Mojo realized that he would never understand women. She left her house, which was too clean, to clean his house. That's not weird at all. He slowly put his paper down and stood up. Walking closer to her hunched form. He grabbed a sponge out of the bucket. Blossom looked at him curiously, furrowing her brows together. He sighed and squeezed the sponge over her head and down to the floor.

"You have missed a spot. In other words, there is grim that has yet to be cleaned. You should clean this grime, as I, Mojo Jojo, have pointed it out to you specifically. I noticed the grim and have alerted you to its pre-"

Blossom smiled slightly. No matter how pretty she made the place, you can't clean up Mojo. That made her feel a little more perfect if just by comparison.

Xxx

A/n: Last story of the night...or day, depending on where you live. I didn't reread this, so tell any mistakes, m'kay?

Little bit of crazyness to tie it all up correct?

Disclaimer: I do not own the Powerpuff Girls. I do own the idea of this story, and the Him/Bubbles story that has a 60 percent chance of being written tomorrow.


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